


Grief, by Caleigh Price

by CaleighPrice



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 07:59:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16850200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaleighPrice/pseuds/CaleighPrice
Summary: I have to maintain my house in Kirkwall, somehow. It started as a joke with Varric, but then... the letter came. The pain is palpable. It is real. I see why Varric writes. All this time, he has been grieving. I can't publish under my own name, but Caleigh said I can use hers. I cannot shake Flemeth saying Hawke should jump into the Abyss, almost as if she knew... maybe... maybe if I go to Tevinter I can find a mage who can help me find Hawke, bring him out of the Fade. Or Flemeth. Maybe I can find her. Gods help me, I am traveling with a Tal-Vashoth and his band of mercenaries. Don't tell Varric why I am really going to Tevinter. Although, maybe that's why he sent Sparkles for me.I miss you, Hawke. I will find you.





	Grief, by Caleigh Price

My Friend,

I apologize for the delay in responding. The news was... bracing, to say the least. I needed to take some time. Your advice is received and in truth I met someone on my travels who has offered assistance, in that regard. 

I see why you write. Thank you for encouraging me. Circumstances being what they are, please find attached the poems I have finished so far. How many drafts am I supposed to do of these things? Is this what your editor is for? I am glad the first collection was so well-received. It helps. I will stick to poetry, though. You write the adventures, I will write the “broody swooniness” as you so aptly described it. 

In reference to your query, I am traveling to Tevinter. Sparkles found me while I accompanied a mercenary group along the border. Led by a Tal-Vashoth, if you can believe it. He is not Him, but he could have been Arishok, I think, if he had stayed under the Qun. He has no patience with Sparkles, which is a plus, and he speaks of a shift in Tevinter. I will continue to travel with them, and to see if the Magisterium has changed. If not, there is always Sparkles. 

That was a joke. Stop worrying. I will stick to the shadows. The writing is cathartic, and has helped immensely. I will keep him in line. 

Please continue to deposit the proceeds as we agreed, and forward the gold to Daisy to help the people. 

I will let you know when we reach Tevinter. I am most curious about this mage who has snared this Tal-Vashoth. 

Your friend, 

Caleigh 

 

I.

I miss you.   
I tried not to, but I do.   
I miss your arms.   
Holding me tight, warming me.   
I miss your eyes.  
They saw me, and enraptured me.  
I miss your lips.  
Gliding across my skin, worshiping me.   
I miss your legs.  
Carrying us to safety, bracing me.  
I miss your heart.  
Beating against mine, healing me.   
I miss your laughter.  
Filling my soul and spirit, claiming me.   
I miss your tongue.  
Leaving its trail, lashing me.   
I miss your feet.   
Walking away, leaving me.   
I try to not to, but I do.  
I miss you. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

II. For the storm

The sky is crying again  
Raining down its sorrow   
Like its heart has been crushed   
And been ripped from its chest.  
Who so angered the sky?  
Who so harmed the mother?  
Who so murdered her son?  
Who so slaughtered her daughter?  
Her tears slap against my cheeks  
And in the wind she wails   
Her fury raging like a demon  
Her grief drowning me in tears.  
Send me in your vengeful stead, sky  
Send me to defend the mother  
Send me to avenge her son   
Send me to enact justice for her daughter  
I am the mother.  
I am the son.   
I am the daughter.   
I am the storm.  
I. Am. Justice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

III.

What would you do  
If I breathed “my love” into your ear.  
If my fingers brushed through your hair  
If my lips offered sweet music against your neck

What would you do   
After the last candle was doused  
After the last door was locked  
After the last flame went out

What would you do  
When I chuckle softly against your skin  
When my fingertips trace your jaw  
When my scent invades your senses

What would you do  
At the realization of our dream  
At the culmination of our reality  
At the inevitability of our passion

What would you do?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

IV.

I cannot walk in the wilds, love  
and not wonder, wistful in my memories  
In the trees I see your strength  
The branches your limbs as they twist above me  
In the stream I see your calm  
Washing over me to soothe my flames with understanding  
In the storm I hear your voice  
Carried on the wind as you call out to me  
In the grass I feel your lust  
Driving into me as you encompassed the wilds with me  
In the trees  
In the stream  
In the storm  
In the grass  
I cannot walk in the wilds, love  
and not remember, wistful in my memories. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

V.

There was a time when the world was a nightmare  
When I doubted my existence  
There was a time when the blood dripped down the steps  
When the children's cries were naught but the cries of hungry crows

But in this time the world is hurting   
When I scream at the pain of my existence  
There is this time to take the laughter and frivolity when I can  
When the children's cries are naught but the reaction to my scars. 

There is a time when the world came back to life  
When I accepted my existence  
There is a time when laughter flowed down the steps  
When the children's cries are naught but the laughter of childhood games.

But in this time you found me hunting  
When I howled at the agony of my existence  
There is this time to take the love and passion as I can  
When the children's cries are naught but their happiness for us. 

There will be a time when the world revels in its living  
When I laugh without my chest hurting  
There will be a time when music and frivolity dance down the steps  
When the children's cries are naught but the bells of mated souls' bliss. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

VI.

I slept.  
The sun was not supposed to shine  
To warm my skin with the heat of its caress  
The clouds were supposed to always cover  
Tinged with grey and rolling at misery's behest.

The sun was not supposed to shine  
To invade my mind with its luscious heat  
The clouds were supposed to lend shade  
Rumbled with thunder, crackling with each heart beat.  
I dreamed.  
The night was supposed to stonewall  
To cool my burning flesh with darkness; hide  
The stars were supposed to guide me true  
Feed my thirst, quench my hunger with soft light.

The night was supposed to be my raven-feathered cloak  
To set me adrift on the dreaming tide  
The currents were supposed slip me away  
Ease my pain, and take my life.  
The morning was not supposed to come   
To remind me of my pain, of my searing skin.  
The voice was not supposed to grip my heart  
“You are loved, wolf. This pack, you are a part.”  
I woke. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

VII.

Read to me  
Let your words ripple over me   
Like the way your fingertips do   
When you think I am sleeping. 

Read to me  
Let the story fill my ears   
Like the way your moans do  
When I brush my lips to yours.

Read to me  
Let the passion raise your voice  
Like the way my teeth do  
When I sink them into your flesh. 

Read to me  
Let the crescendo build now  
Like the way my tongue does  
When I lick your neck, you quiver. 

Read to me  
Let the parable explode  
Like the way our souls do  
When our bodies crest together. 

I beg you. 

Read. 

To.

Me...

 

 

 

 

 

VIII.

I can see you in my dreams.  
I can see you when I’m getting dressed in the morning.  
Standing in front of me; trying to distract me  
Making me laugh, you make me weep.

I walk to the market and I see you in the faces I pass.  
Brown eyes green eyes blue eyes, it doesn’t matter.  
All I can see are those bright blue eyes of understanding and acceptance.  
The tears come harder now and I feel my heart twist.

Waiting for the news was agony.  
I know I will see you when I drag myself up the steps.  
There you will sit with your smile asking me how I am.  
Quick. Have to dry my cheeks and pray the dullness from my gaze.

I can’t hide anything from you and I wonder  
Was it wise to challenge the line between friends into lovers  
And to lose as I did, after so much, the laughter, camaraderie, was it wise?  
Andraste carries me past you and pulls my mouth into a smile.

No matter what I will survive; you sensed my strength.  
I have been beaten, I have been raped, I have been branded and enslaved.  
Insults gravitate to me and I feel the stones of judgment.  
Cold stones, cutting stones, scarring my flesh forever.

Frustration pulls at my heart and I feel the tears start again  
I should not want for you; I should not cry for you  
I can feel your pain and your care and I close my eyes  
It hurts so much just to breathe without you.

A gentle kiss upon my forehead and I wake, startled.   
I have missed my friend, the first I ever had and dreams are torment  
Your finger traces down my cheek and I look away fighting tears  
Please don’t remember, don’t let me want. 

I look out into the spring day and I see rebirth.  
Forgiveness in the earth for the harshness of the winter.  
I steal a glance at your cowl and my head aches as I worry.  
I know what love is within you, and I can feel the pain.

I want to reach out to you, to hold you and welcome you home  
It would be bliss and maybe that is why you are lost to me  
I am sin I am damned and I am not worthy of happiness  
So this day is to be my penance, my anguish, my agony. 

 

IX.

I have never felt so unworthy  
As when your lips met mine  
I have never wished to be someone else  
Until I felt the kindness in your hands. 

Love is not meant for everyone, at least not me  
Will you stop arguing now? Now that you know?  
It is you that I want that I cannot have   
So love is not meant for everyone, least of all those unworthy of it. 

You cannot see me as I am I do not think.  
You are blinded by our friendship and our laughter  
I am not worthy of you, one so honorable and true  
It is so difficult not to crack into pieces when you touch me.

Sometimes I feel like a clay pot when you touch me that is filled  
Overfilled with sunshine so that I start to crack   
Rays of love burst through the nooks and crannies and suddenly  
Suddenly the old pot is new. Beautiful. Real.

Sometimes I feel like I melt, like somehow you are pouring over me  
Then I can achieve anything, I can survive anything thrown at me  
The skies open up and I am strong as the song of a bluebird  
Drifting upon the air currents to fly with the wind of redemption.

The other times I feel guilty for being weak, for being me  
Darkness invades my peace and I cringe with regret  
I know the pain that I can bring and the destruction of my desire  
And I wish I had never entered and complicated your life. 

Am I being selfish to want you near me so I can hear you laugh?  
Am I being selfish to crave the sweetness of your lips?   
Then I will remain selfish and hunger for something unattainable.  
One tiny moment with you was worth a lifetime knowing innumerable moments without you.

 

 

 

 

X. For Blondie

How can I explain to you how I burn?  
How the feelings start in my heart and seem to race along my arteries  
My lungs fill with warmth and my fingers start to tingle  
My legs begin to tremble with just the softest mention of your name?

Fire is a part of me, a part of me I cannot deny, nor embrace.  
It is the fire that has branded me and cast me from humanity  
I choose to burn and warm myself  
Better that than to remain cold in indifference and judgment.

My choices are mine and mine alone; the consequences I accept  
The judgment is made by those without wisdom, without heart  
But drown they do in the drunkenness of power, of deceit  
Slipping so far down they cannot see the shore of love.

The Maker gave me this fire so that I might teach others  
In this you are correct; it was the Maker’s gift to me  
My only regret is that I am alone and too long alone to trust humanity  
So in this gift you have seen the curse. 

I burn with love; so much love that it is too much  
If you split me open I would bleed love, it would cover Thedas and encompass the Fade  
And I share my love openly and without expectation  
For humanity’s blindness and self-righteousness is what feeds my fire.

You feed me differently and somehow I feel sated, safe.   
Have the flames changed? Have they become more molten than raging hot?  
Somehow you have fanned the flames and fed me.  
And for that, I love you. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

XI. For the Wardens

Pieces of me fall away  
Dancing and floating on the wind  
A journey of transformation  
Through the clouds and atmosphere.

Sometimes I connect and touch  
A village girl laughs  
As I fall against her eyelashes  
Die on her tongue.

Sometimes I do not get a chance.  
The warmth of the air consumes me  
The sun hits and death claims me  
A searing instantaneous combustion.

Other times the wind’s anger pushes me  
I slap people in the face  
Freeze their blood, blue their lips  
Cover them and blanket Faded sleep. 

Other times I ride on the wings of griffons  
Feeling free and happy I glide   
The beauty of life is mine for a time  
Soaring in the soul of righteousness.

Pieces of me fall away  
Dancing and floating on the wind  
For a time I live and laugh  
Death comes and still.

I am unafraid to fall.

 

 

 

 

 

XII.

I feel you with every drop of rain that caresses my skin  
The way it trickles down my face and past the collar of my shirt  
And nestles in the warm valley of my chest  
It is your tongue that traces this path and warms me in the winter.

As it sluices over my cheeks, into my hair and over my ears  
I feel your fingers tracing the shell of my ear, delivering a benediction  
My eyes close as the droplets from the storm pass across them  
My lips open as skyfall dew pools against it and I smile as my tongue tingles.

I blink as the deluge hits my warm body; my clothes stick to me  
To feel the cool rain against my skin and the silk sliding and sticking  
I am connected to you in this moment of pouring torrent and I want you  
In the rain I want you fully clothed as I am bare but for my primality.

I want to feel you slide against and into my slick tightness, trying to hold me  
As I slip from your grasp, drenched and lustrous. Against a tree perhaps?  
Anchor me there as you thrust home and heat my chilled soaked skin with your hot tongue  
Fill me with the earth and warm me, as the deluge does its best to cool me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

XIII.

Every soul has a multitude of facets to it, like precious jewels.   
We are all jewels, even if we do not see ourselves  
If we are cut just right, and polished in the precise cosmic moment of perfection,   
we shine brilliantly, our facets blinding and darling. 

Then what of those of us who have been cut, and left unpolished?   
I walked my life through a vast neverland of vicious nothingness.  
The light claimed me, then sliced me into many different shades and contrasts   
which i suppose in their own way came together to create. Me.

There have been distractions,chips taken, rough edges and smooth surfaces.   
I have claimed these as mine for they are MY defects, my edges, and my surfaces.  
And now all the colors have collected again, yet now in the darkness,   
blooming as nightshade, deeper in countenance, stronger in persistence. 

I have not found a thing of beauty in all the facets of me.   
Conflict breeds passion, fury, and angst; darkness in conflict breeds love.   
Love breeds understanding, compassion, friendship if all of me allows them.   
Now I dwell in darkness, where the blinding sun will not shine on me. 

And in the darkness I have found my selves, my facets.   
And the moon she polishes us,to make these valuable precious gems.   
We have stepped out of darkness, and been claimed by our Blessed Mother.   
All of me, all of my selves, all of my pieces, belong to Her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

XIV.

She gasps.  
When I notice her across the way  
My heart falls down into my stomach  
And I can’t seem to catch my breath.  
I look.  
Trying to decide if she can see me.  
Praying that she can’t; I can fix my pants.  
Try to settle my nerves and walk toward you.  
I hope.  
My hair isn’t a mess and the lines are barely visible.  
My heart beats faster as I near her; she looks up.  
My lips curve into a smile- instant reaction to her gaze.  
I burn.  
While we sit in the darkened corner in the tavern across the room.  
Trying to swallow the warm concoction and sweet iced cream.  
All that crosses my mind are her hands, their fingertips, how they must feel.  
I quake.  
Inside my soul has turned to molten syrup, I can’t find a grasp.  
I feel my heart slipping when her eyes search mine.  
I want to caress her soft warm hand and hold it; settle this tempest.  
I dream.  
I shift in my night; my thighs moist from thoughts of her.  
Her hands skimming along my body softly, her tongue tasting my skin  
Her hair falling against my chest, loose from its tie; my fingers clenching  
I shiver.  
She laughs and pulls me against her heat, making me feel her need.  
She knows how she affects me, how she make me flow, makes me want her.  
She enters me, and I explode, gripping her shoulders, trying to breathe, she   
fills me.  
I whimper.  
As she moves, my muscles tighten, I feel her hair cool my neck, her   
teeth in my shoulder.  
She thrusts harder and my muscles clench; I hold her inside; she kisses me.  
Her tongue thrusts into my mouth as she groans, we kiss; I feel her lose   
herself in me.  
I arch.  
Feeling the waves of her release trigger mine as I squeeze her deep inside.  
She kisses me more demanding, thrusting hard within me, wanting to take   
possession of me.  
I hold her close and kiss her back, accepting her possession, reveling in   
the storm she's given me.   
I wake. 

XV.

I don't like that people can feel my pain.  
I like that I can hide from people and write and paint in my cave.  
So this connection I will close with glee  
Free from the knowledge of being a passing fancy  
My own way.  
Too strong to be good enough, and too weak to not find happiness in my strength.  
How is it that I can be too much, and yet too little.  
How is it that I can give and cannot take.   
I let my walls down and allow people to hurt me.   
My own way.  
I am clan, and yet, alone within it.   
So i will fly alone and break the connection so i can deal with the pain in my own time.  
Do not mourn my leaving; do not waste your thoughts on one such as me.  
I will live and love alone  
My own way.  
Leave me be brother, as I close my eyes to the day.   
Darkness embraces me, the goddess only can comfort me.   
Some are meant to mate and some are meant to fly.  
And so I go.  
My own way.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

XVI.

I am cold and walk on the beach of dreams  
I can see them frolicking in the whitecaps  
Some are creatures rising to jump and embrace the light  
Some are buried deep in the surf, embraced in the depth of night.

Why I thought the beach would bring me warmth I don’t know  
For all I feel is the coolness clinging to my face   
The saltiness clings to my cheeks and I taste it in my chill  
But I walk along the beach awaiting warmth that did long ago thrill.

Barefoot I stride with my cloak of rage around me  
My feet ensconced in emeralds warm within the sand   
I climb the rocks and finally feel the warm of rubies between my toes  
They fall into the sea and become a necklace soon to be.

Touch my skin and feel the ice from within  
Or is it stone that remains cold and unbroken against the fury  
For some reason my cloak burns always no matter the cold  
It will protect me from the wind and rain, or at least I have been told.

I look below me as the spray of the sea covers my body  
A treasure in rubies falling into the pool below me  
I sit and look out toward the horizon and wait  
A ship is coming carrying relief and what I will take.

I cannot see it, but I can smell it in the saltiness of the sea  
As it drips down my face and falls below the weight of my chest  
I wrap my rage-cloak around me and smile into the moon  
And wait for the respite and life that is coming soon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

XVII.

There is sanctity in the cold of snow  
In the blanket as it gently covers you  
Across your skin as it casts a pale blue hue

There is comfort in the cold of snow  
In the realization it may all be over soon  
Drifting in and out of sleep, straw bed roughly hewn.

There is compassion in the cold of snow  
In the quiet gently tumbling flakes fall  
Against my closed eyes that see and remember all.

There is acceptance in the cold of snow  
In the rage coiling and twisting within me  
Memories gather and feed the icy flurry.


End file.
